


Coming Home Late

by tosca1390



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Sam finally gets home from the White House, Ainsley is already in pajamas. It’s been one of those days.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home Late

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a cracky universe I've invented with Jordan in which Rory Gilmore meets Bram and they're dating. So, it's all interconnected.

*

When Sam finally gets home from the White House, Ainsley is already in pajamas. It’s been one of those days. 

“Well, hi there,” he says, standing in the doorway between the living room and the front hallway of their Georgetown apartment. 

Ainsley drags a finger through the icing on her red velvet cupcake and sticks a gob of cream cheese frosting between her lips. “Josh barreled into my office at five-thirty this afternoon,” she says in lieu of hello, tugging on the fraying hem of his old Duke t-shirt. It’s her favorite thing to sleep in, now. 

He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, briefcase dangling from his fingers. “You were still in the office? Wednesday is when you go in early and leave early.”

She narrows her eyes towards him. “Nothing gets past you, does it,” she deadpans, brushing crumbs from her previous cupcake from her shirt. A glass of red wine sits half-full on the coffee table. CSPAN is on, but muted. “I was in the process of leaving.”

“Is something wrong? He didn’t look more harried than usual,” he says, moving into the living room to sit next to her on the couch. He drops his briefcase against the coffee table’s legs. The smoky smell of late autumn air lingers on his coat. “Which, for Josh, may not say a lot.”

Huffing, she bites into her cupcake and sets it down on the coffee table. “He thinks something’s wrong. Why he thought I was the one to talk to about it, I’m not certain. Perhaps Donna is finally putting him on a word limit per day.”

Sam snorts, his arm resting across the back of the couch. Wine glass in hand, she scoots over and tucks into his side. Through the bay windows, the sky sets with a swipe of dusky orange and purple. She likes this apartment much more than her old one in DC, or their wide almost all glass condo in California. But she had never really taken to California anyway, so perhaps she’s biased. Sam always says she is. What can she say; she’s a Washington girl in the brain, and a Southern girl at heart. 

“So what was it all about? Because when I left him in the parking lot twenty minutes ago, his eye was twitching over Congress’s new bill reaffirming In God We Trust as our motto,” he says, turning his head towards her. His mouth grazes her temple as his fingers curl at her shoulder, twining in the loose blonde hair there. 

“Oh, he found out about Rory Gilmore,” she says with a heavy sigh. 

“Who’s that?”

“Bram’s girlfriend,” she says, shooting him a look. “The op-ed columnist.”

Sam’s brow furrows, his mouth curling downwards. “Have I met her?”

“She was in last week on Sunday, when you all were working on the jobs bill. She made the coffee,” she says, sipping her wine. 

“Oh yeah,” he says, nodding. “That was good stuff.”

“Nothing gets past you, Samuel,” she drawls.

Sam leans down and kisses her sharply, a brief press of mouths. His lips are still cool from the October air. “Anyway. Josh found out.”

A flush curls up her throat towards her cheeks. She takes another swallow of wine. “So he’s sure there’s some legal precedent for White House staffers dating graduate students who freelance as op-ed columnists,” she says with a sigh. 

“I’m guessing there isn’t,” he said with a smile. 

“You would be correct,” she says, smoothing a hand down the front of his coat. “Though, Josh isn’t one to take no for an answer.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

“Sam, don’t make me pull out the Trivial Pursuit. I will school you again, so help me—“

“What did you tell him?” he interjects smoothly, stroking his hand through her loose hair. 

Her mouth creases together. “Well, after telling him he was nuts for getting this upset, I said that Rory was a perfectly lovely woman, and that she seemed to be a good influence on Bram, and he ought to just relax. Besides, her op-eds are almost always in favor of his policy, when she turns her attention to the White House.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it aside. 

“Hey! Sam, that’s not very nice,” she says before he kisses her again. This time, his mouth moves longer and slower over hers, wet and warm. She can taste the tinny bitterness of the west wing coffee on his tongue. 

“She also makes the best coffee you’ve ever had in the West Wing,” she murmurs as he shifts her back against the couch cushions. He is an easy weight on her legs and stomach. “And, she has excellent taste in baked goods. Do you remember those Danish she brought in last weekend?”

Sam grazes his teeth along her jaw. “I don’t, actually.”

“I do, and they were wonderful. I don’t see why Josh was so upset.”

“Because that’s all Josh does sometimes. I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Sam murmurs, his mouth moving along her throat. 

“Sam, I have wine and a cupcake,” she reminds him even as she slips her hands through his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp.

“They’ll be there later,” he mumbles, his hands sliding under the thin t-shirt they both know so well. 

Ainsley shuts her eyes, her exhale catching on a moan. “Excellent argument,” she murmurs.

Josh, Bram, and the very long day are forgotten. Eventually, the cupcake and wine are as well, however briefly. Some things are sacred, after all.

*


End file.
